The Other Side
by Venice.Luna.Blanche
Summary: Danny assumes that "working the other side" means being a sniper. How wrong he was... T for language and classic Steve whump.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Even given my perpetual, shameless need to beat our favorite SEAL senseless, this one is a little different. Hope you enjoy. Should prove to be something interesting. Enjoy

Summary: Steve told Danno he worked the "other side." Danno assumes that means a sniper. But what if working the "other side" was much more than that, and what if Danny is about to find out exactly what Steve meant. Post Po'ipu.

* * *

_Moscow, Russia- Sunday: 2330 hours local time. _

Steve McGarrett laughed loudly, despite the complete lack of comedic value in the situation. After as much vodka as they'd assumed that _he'd_ consumed, he was supposed to be well on his way to being roaring drunk. Which was exactly the plan.

The man next to him turned and began to speak in rapid Russian.

"The cards are unlucky for you tonight, eh Volkoff?"

Steve smirked drunkenly at the man before him and pretended to slur on his words as he replied in a similar fashion. "I'll win my money back tomorrow, Petrovsky, just you wait and see."

The rest of the table laughed at him. He smiled in return, even as his mind reeled in disgust at the sight of the six dirty men, all part of the radical, communist driven gang he was tracking. Their leader, Anton Ivanov, managed to kidnap a CIA op with top clearance and planned to ship him off to Hawaii to hack a satellite and break an extremely dangerous, painfully powerful man out of prison. Which was why Steve was playing cards in a freezing warehouse in the middle of the night with a bunch of violent, strapped insurgents.

It was a simple DA (Direct Action) mission that was all about the Intel. He had to find out how Ivanov was going to leave Russia with the kidnapped man, and then take down the rest of the gang. After which he got to fly all the way to North Korea to do something similar.

It was times like these that made Steve miss Hawaii, where he had his Ohana and it was warm and there were generally _less_ Intel turned covert op political assassination missions.

"You going to bet on that piece of shit hand, Volkoff?" Petrovsky asked, throwing an arm over Steve's shoulder like they were best friends.

"You going to cheat all night, Petrovsky?" Steve replied, his mouth forming Russian as easily as it did English.

"Hey," the man replied indignantly, "I'm dealing this round anyways. I'm just offering some friendly advice."

Steve pretended to laugh drunkenly again. Secretly, he was glad the United States government was paying for this Recon mission, because he was sure it had cost a pretty penny, what with flying him to Russia as quickly as was humanly possible, paying off the right people to connect Steve to the Russian gang in question, and the huge amount dropped after hours of losing poker on purpose to a bunch of people who seemed to have expendable income.

His eyes sharp, Steve took note of the position of each man around the table. Petrovsky, directly to his left, dealt another round. Downing another shot of bad vodka, Steve grimaced at the useless hand. He knew Petrovsky was cheating, but it wasn't his job to oust a dirty card player.

He was here to find out how they were getting to Hawaii, and then to _disband_ the remaining members of the gang. Because, really, they were only detrimental to society anyways.

Pretending to sway a little, Steve looked around wildly. "Hey," he spoke up, nudging Petrovsky in the arm, "Where's Ivanov? Isn't he supposed to play tonight?"

Petrovsky, ever the loudmouth Russian drunk, laughed raucously. "Nah, Volkoff. He's got business tonight."

"Business? What kind of business?"

"Business that doesn't concern a street runner like yourself," he leered, but continued anyways, clearly enjoying being the center of attention. "Word is he got his hands on an American- an American with something that could get Petrov out of that damned Korean prison."

"Oh yeah? What they going to do with that American son of a bitch?"

"Word is," he leaned closer to Steve to add to the suspense, "They got a ship in the harbor, one headed to _Hawaii._" He said the name of the island slowly, as though Steve might not understand to word. Steve wanted to scoff. If he didn't know the word, he wouldn't have been in Russia in the first place.

"When they leavin'?" Steve asked.

Petrovsky leered at him again. "Why you wanna know, Volkoff?"

Steve pretended to back off, hands raised in submission. "Relax, Petrovsky. I got a guy is all. A guy in _Hawaii._" He made his mouth struggle over the word. "I bet my guy can get Ivanov to the right place."

Petrovsky smirked. "Relax, Volkoff," he said, "We got people too, and plenty of them. People who're gonna make a _huge_ impact. And, word is, Ivanov is leavin' tonight."

There it was, conformation of the contacts on Oahu, as well as the when and how of the departure of Ivanov. That was it. Time to play.

"_Got it, boss," _a voice sounded in his ear. _Finally,_ Steve thought to himself.

Steve leaned back in his chair, and made to stumble up, holding himself up on his chair.

"Where you going, Volkoff?" Another man asked over the cards in his hands.

"I gotta piss." He stumbled forward. Bending over himself, he made like he was going to be sick.

"HEY!" Petrovsky cried, "You going to be sick, you do it somewhere else."

Steve, his back to the table, smirked to himself.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine." He removed his hands from his stomach, now holding a military grade pistol in each.

Those low life Russian bastards never had a chance. Steve whipped around, taking down the first two with a head shot to each before anyone could even widen their eyes in surprise. Another two shots, and the next men went down as they were drawing their guns.

_Bang_. The fifth went down as he made to aim.

_Bang. _A sixth shot, and Petrovsky slumped onto the table as his gun clattered uselessly to the floor.

Steve observed the six dead with no compassion, or even emotion. On the island, death was one thing. But here? In the middle of _nowhere_ with six sick, child killing bastards? Death was just a part of the job.

Steve dispassionately looked at Petrovsky.

"Goddamn cheater had an ace up his sleeve," He said, more to himself than anyone. Still, he was unsurprised when a voice responded.

"_You would've won, boss." _

"It's a shame, really. What a waste of perfectly good talent. The one to my right was counting cards."

"_So were you."_

"Yeah, but I couldn't do shit about it." He sighed at the scene before him, before calmly making his way to the door. "You know what to do, Davis."

"_Release the methanol from the gas line, short wire the circuits. Kaboom. Got it. You out of there?"_

"Am now."

Steve continued walking as, behind him, the warehouse burst into flames, the explosion rocking the ground as fire rained down on the snow- packed earth.

Pulling a satellite phone out of his pocket and shivering at the invasive cold, Steve reserved a sigh for nostalgia's sake, missing Oahu and his team more each passing hour in the frozen hellhole.

_Jesus, I sound like Danno. _He smirked beside himself, knowing that, when he got back home, Danny was going to have a hissy fit over his inexplicable absence for several days. Steve sighed, dreading the conversation.

Punching in the numbers, Steve held the frozen phone up to his equally frozen hand and resisted the urge to shiver, despite himself.

"_McGarrett."_

"Admiral. I have the Intel."

* * *

_Five-0 HQ- Tuesday: 0900 hours local time. _

Detective Danny 'Danno" Williams could say, with complete and absolute confidence, that his partner was off his rocker.

For one, the guy was completely MIA. He left a message for Danny on Friday, saying that he was sick and wouldn't be able to come in for a few days, and had not been heard from since. They went to his house, and the doors were locked. A note was left taped to the front door, in Steve's immaculately military script.

_Danno, _

_Despite the fact that I'm sure you have a well though out speech about how I shouldn't play hooky, I really am sick. I'm sure you have better things to do than babysit, so don't bother coming in. We'll both be annoyed if you do. Don't think this means you have the week off; the perps won't catch themselves. _

_With _all_ of my not inconsiderable love for you,_

_SM_

The note was full of Steve's palpable sarcasm, and it was definitely written by him. Danny resisted the urge to knock down his door despite the warning.

The second reason Danny was sure his partner was batshit insane was that Steve seemed to have connections all over the island- hell, probably all over the world- and because of this was constantly in contact with shady, underhanded people, who did nothing but turn Steve into a cryptic, equally devious _SEAL_ maniac. People like Bullfrog, who tried to kill every one of Danny's teammates. It was horrible frustrating.

The third reason that Steve McGarrett needed to be institutionalized and declared mentally unfit to be a member of society was standing in front of Danny in the Five-0 HQ, hands behind his back, calmly staring straight ahead. He screamed military, from his proper Navy attire to his short, severe hairstyle, and Danny _knew_ that he was going to turn Steve into that super- freak ninja assassin persona that made the man _so_ charming.

Steve was _still_ sick and holed up in his house, and so Danny was left to greet the anonymous, uptight man in his stead.

"Can I help you?" He asked, trying not to use the tone of voice he generally reserved for Rachel.

The man turned around quickly, his sharp eyes looking Danny up and down before seeming to dismiss him as a threat. Danny was a little put out by this, but held his ground anyways.

The man nodded. "Detective Williams, I presume?"

Even the way he spoke set Danny on edge. It was concise, to the point, and uncannily _Steve-like_.

Danny nodded.

"My name is Admiral Sal Goodich; I'm with the U.S.S Florida."

"Well, Admiral," Danny said, trying his hardest _not_ to compare this man to his partner, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to discuss a security threat with you and the remaining two members of your team."

Great. This was shaping up to be just a fantastic Tuesday morning. Nothing like a security threat and the U.S. Navy to start off the work week.

"Two? I'm sorry Admiral, but you're mistaken. There are _three_ other members of my team."

Goodich nodded, irritatingly unsurprised by Danny's words.

"I know, Detective, but you see I don't count Steve McGarrett as part of the discussion because he is already fully aware of the security threat to the island and, by extension, the freedom of the democratic East."

Danny could hardly form words through his part shock/ part palpable frustration at the whole situation.

"What the hell do you mean, Steve already knows? Do you know where he _is_? He's holed up in his house with a nasty case of the flu." But even as he said the words, Danny began to doubt their veracity.

"He's not sick, is he?" Danny asked, frowning at the possible implications of the whole situation.

Goodich offered nothing beyond saying, "We ought to wait for the rest of your team, don't you think?"

Danny only grunted in response, tapping his foot against the tile floor in impatience.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Chin and Kono walked in together, obviously sharing a quiet joke. One look at the situation in front of them and they both quieted instantly.

"Hey, Danny, who's your friend?" Kono asked, eying the admiral in a way that only a native could to an obvious haole. Chin was less transparent, but to a trained, familiar eye, the calculation was evident behind his cool, dark eyes.

"He's not my friend." Danny said, before doing things properly and introducing the man to his comrades. "Kono, Chin, meet Admiral Goodich. He's here to _discuss_ a security threat with us."

Chin looked around before inquiring, "Where's McGarrett?"

"He's not coming," the Admiral interjected before Danny could respond. "Commander McGarrett has, given that he was in the reserves anyway, been put back into active duty."

"What the hell?" Danny exclaimed. "With respect, Admiral, Steve has a duty to this island and to his team. You can't just pull him back into duty and ship his to god knows where with no warning."

"Don't worry," The Admiral placated, "It's only temporarily, I assure you. Plus, the Commander will be back on the island within the next few days."

"What's going on?" Kono managed to use a single question to ask everything Danny had been thinking.

"There's been a serious threat to the security of Oahu as well as to the democratic reign of the East." Goodich look gravely from one face to the next. "A group of Russian insurgents managed to get a hold of an agent from Langley- stationed at an embassy in the country- who has security clearance to almost every major United States military command center and satellite operation system in the world."

"How the hell could a group of insurgents get their hands on a very powerful and very well protected person? And, for that matter, why would we assume that the Russian insurgents could coerce him into hacking a network? _And _what does this have to do with us? Or McGarrett?" Danny felt as though the questions would never stop.

Goodich sighed.

"This has everything to do with you, Detective. The problem we face now is twofold. One, from the Intel we could gather, the agent from Langley, a Mr. Kahale, was born here in Hawaii, and the insurgents- under a man named Ivanov- claim to have locals helping them, who will blow up a place of importance unless the agent complies with their demands. From what we could gather, they want Kahale to hack the satellite stationed over North Korea, specifically the northern tip where there resides a prison. And in that prison is a man named Yuri Petrov, a former leader of the Russian radicalists in question and a very dangerous man. If Kahale complies, the satellite will have a jammed signal for exactly as long as it takes for Petrov to break out of prison. It could quite possibly uproot all democracy in Russia and start a war."

Silence. Danny remembered that the Admiral said the problem was twofold, but Chin beat him to the question.

"What's the other problem?" He asked, eyes clouded with apprehension.

"The admiral sighed again. "The only way to hack the satellite is to be in close proximity to the tower where the satellite feeds its signal."

Danny paused. "That tower is here, isn't it?"

Goodich nodded.

"I don't understand," admitted Kono. "If they have to come here, why don't we just shut down the island? We know where they have to go, right? We can catch them before they ever set foot on Oahu."

"Unfortunately," replied the Admiral, "Its not that easy. The satellite tower has a signal feed large enough that they could hack it from anywhere on the island with the right equipment."

"So where does that leave us?" Chin asked.

Goodich's response was not heartening. "We have no idea if the Russians mean business when they said they would blow up a public place, because the island is crawling with Navy personnel and nothing has been even remotely close to blown up."

"What's the time frame?" Kono asked.

"The Russians grabbed Kahale on Friday. We started receiving Intel on the situation on Sunday. As of now, all we know is that the Russians have left Moscow by ship that they are headed here. They could be on Oahu by this time tomorrow."

"So you need us to…?" Danny phrased it like a question.

"I need you to do what you do, and treat the Russians like any other case you have. Find out who the locals who are helping could be, find out where they could have planted a bomb, and find out where on the island they could go to jam a satellite signal without getting caught."

"And where does McGarrett fit into all of this?"

Goodich paused.

"He's working the other side," he answered unhelpfully.

Danny actually groaned. "That's the second time I've heard that term, Admiral, and I still don't know what it means."

"It's classified."

Danny scoffed. "If you want out help, Goodich, then you have to understand how we operate. It's _Ohana._" He could see Chin and Kono smirk at his use of the word. "It means full discretion and understanding between us. How are we supposed to work on this case if our boss is gone and nobody can even tell us what the hell he's up to?"

Goodich appraised Danny, and seemed to reevaluate his original dismissal.

"you'd have made a good soldier." He conceded just a little bit of information to the team. "Commander McGarrett works the other side. It means he and his team carry out the mission- the ones that the United States cannot take credit for- by any and all means necessary."

With that, he bid them adieu, turned on his heel, and left the building.

"What the hell?..." Kono stared after the man's retreating back in shock.

Danny was similarly disbelieving. Sure, Steve was a Ninja, but if Danny thought he understood what the Admiral was implicating… well, then McGarrett just graduated to… whatever came beyond ninja. Super Ninja?

Chin turned to Danny now. "Looks like you're the boss, Haole. What do you want to do?"

Danny shook himself out of his reverie.

"Uh… we need to track locals who have any history tracing back to Russian crime or this man Petrov. Kono, check and see if anyone in the system is currently on the island that matches that description, or has a history with this Ivanov person. Chin, map the island and find out the most optimal spot, in terms of satellite feed and stealth, for jamming the signal. Once they reach the island, they won't waste time in either blowing something up, or else jamming that signal if Kahale has already cracked. I'll talk to HPD and see if I can't find any place that will be the likeliest target for a bomb."

Chin and Kono responded immediately to his command, leaving Danny with his thoughts as he wandered towards HPD, his mind elsewhere.

_What the hell are you doing, Rambo?_

_

* * *

_

_Somewhere north of Najin, North Korea. Tuesday, 1400 local time._

Steve found lush jungle and dense green foliage much more to his liking than the harsh cold of Russia, even if the forest was full of large insects, poisonous water, and several hundred guerilla soldiers who walked the perimeter of Najin Prison with incredible firepower and itchy trigger fingers.

The soldiers where a blip on the radar, really. They had no more military technology than a gun, and an outdated one at that. With state- of- the- art equipment and a team of some of the best operatives in the world, they would be SEAL food.

Still, when stealth was the mission, it was hardly appropriate to start open war in the middle of a jungle less than a mile from a maximum security prison that housed some of the world's most dangerous people.

That was the only reason the Korean Soldiers remained alive as Steve and four other men ran silent through the forest, dodging the men they would normally kill as they made their way towards the prison.

Timing was everything. They had to make sure that, when the satellite failed over the prison and all surveillance would be scrambled, they were there to ensure that Petrov remained incarcerated by any means possible. The tricky thing was that Petrov, who simply _knew_ things the international community needed to be aware of, was to be kept alive for testimony at the UN summit in four months time.

_Not _killing, though it pained Steve to admit it to himself, was what made this mission so difficult. It only added to his irritation towards global politics that this man was _so _necessary, that they would risk what was not only one of the most strategically placed U.S. Naval peacekeeping areas in the worlds, but was also Steve's home.

There it was. Like a barbed- wire hellhole, Najin Prison rose up out of the jungle. Steve stopped and held up a fisted hand. As a unit, his men stopped with him. Using his hands to communicate, he indicated that three men should create a perimeter, while he and the fourth- a Chief Warrant Officer they called Pinks on account of his overtly red nose- would enter the prison and, with the help of the trustworthy guards, ensure Petrov remained incarcerated.

The three men left, each headed in a different direction. Together, Steve and Pinks, using a circuit jammer much like the one that helped blow up that Russian warehouse, cut the electrical power to the fence, scaled it in quick order, and stealthily made their way to the north guard tower. In it would be two of the only trustworthy guards at the whole prison. They would let the SEALS monitor Petrov in his cell until Steve's team and the navy in Oahu could catch Ivanov.

A single knock at the door of the north tower would alert the guards to their presence.

_Knock._

Nothing. No answer, no movement. His rifle aimed in front of him expertly, Steve gently pushed open the door of the tower. The room beyond was a surveillance room with screens depicting each prison cell.

On edge, Steve stepped cautiously into the room. There should have been some sign of the guards by now. Something was wrong.

And then he noticed the smell. The acrid, distinct smell of powder explosives.

Shit.

"Go!" He whispered to Pinks. The officer turned on his heel and sprinted from the tower without a second though. Steve followed. They made it less than thirty yards before the north tower exploded. The explosion knocked both of them to the ground, and Steve could feel the fiery metal rain down upon them. A piece of burning shrapnel sliced into the left side of his jaw line like a knife through butter.

No time to worry about that now. Steve hopped up, grabbed his charge by the collar to hoist him up, and shoved him forward. He began to run.

Pinks, cutting the fence power once more, clambered over. Steve was hot on his heels.

They ran another three hundred yards before stopping at the rendezvous point, where the other three SEALS were already positioned, guns aimed, securing a perimeter for their commander.

"Get me a satellite phone, _now._" They obeyed without question, and a phone was in his hands in seconds. It took about that long for a rag to find its way to his bleeding jaw, but he waved it off and instead motioned towards Pinks, who sat upon the ground sporting the telltale signs of a concussion. He bled from the ear.

"_McGarrett."_

"Admiral. Najin was a failure," Steve said quickly and concisely, "We were compromised."

A pause, and then… _"Petrov?"_

Steve paused this time, dreading having to tell his admiral what he glimpsed before the tower exploded.

"He's gone, sir."

"_Damnit."_

"It must have been a ruse, Admiral. They already have Petrov. They don't want to jam the satellite over North Korea; they're going to skew the signal over Oahu. They're going to sneak him onto the island."

"_Ivanov has to be less than ten hours away by boat, Commander. Petrov will arrive not long after they tamper with the signal. You need to get back here ASAP. We need you to take down Ivanov and his team. Timing is everything, Commander. Petrov can't know he's been made until we can catch him again."_

"Do I have permission to take Petrov down if the need arises, sir?"

"_You do, Commander. See you when you land."_ The line went dead.

Steve looked around at his men. Pinks was concussed, but he was still as SEAL and, injury or not, he would not complain as they trekked back to the city and to where they could _commandeer _an airplane from a generous North Korean military air base.

"Okay, we have less than ten hours to get back to Oahu," Steve told his team. "We need a plane, and we need one fast."

Pinks, despite his overtly dilated pupils, spoke up.

"Sir? We're less than fifty miles from the Chinese border. We can _borrow_ a truck, and fly out the second we cross the border."

Steve nodded curtly, agreeing with the idea.

"Okay, we have to get back to Oahu, and then find Ivanov, and take him down while not alerting to Petrov- who will be flying in on a small, unmarked aircraft hours after Ivanov docks- that he's been compromised."

"Let's move."

* * *

_Five-0 HQ, Tuesday: 2300 hours local time._

Kono wanted to hit her head on her desk in frustration. After a moment of consideration, she went ahead and let it thump onto the wood, earning her an immediate headache.

"Slow going, cuz?" Chin asked, leaning against the desk and offering her a cup of piping hot coffee.

Gratefully accepting the drink, she nodded her affirmation to the question.

"No kidding. All day, and I'm no closer to finding anyone who could possibly be aiding the Russians. If they're here, they're not in the system, and no one has a reported connection with Ivanov." She look up at her cousin. "Any luck on your end?"

"A little," he replied. "I've mapped the island, and cross referenced the part of the island with least surveillance that would also be optimal for jamming a satellite signal."

"And?"

"And I found the likeliest spot." Chin brought up a map of Oahu on the screen in front of them, and highlighted an area on the northeastern shore where there was very little population movement. It also, consequently, was a huge dock for large freighters like the one the Ivanov and his men were rumored to be arriving on.

"Ten miles in from the dock is a cell tower that can feed the signal jammer easily and still remain completely free of unwanted civilian or military personnel; the place is basically deserted."

Kono smiled despite her frustration. _Finally_ they had a lead. And a big one at that; they knew where Ivanov was landing. It was perfect.

At that moment, Danny walked into the office, talking into his cell as though his ex- wife was on the other end.

"Yeah," he said curtly, "I understand. Okay. Will do Admiral." He hung up.

"That was my favorite uptight Navy ninja," he told them. "There's good news and bad news. The good news is that Steve is- sort of- on his way _back_ to the island. The bad news is that Steve is coming back because Petrov already broke out of prison, and they think he's headed here by plane as we speak."

Kono couldn't help herself. "What the hell?" She asked, staring at Danny, who looked more irritated than usual.

"My thought exactly," he replied. "I guess Petrov was nowhere near the prison he was _supposed_ to be in, and Admiral Goodich claims that they believe Ivanov was setting a false trail with the satellite over North Korea. They think Ivanov is actually trying to get Kahale to jam the signal over Oahu so that they can sneak Petrov _onto_ the island."

"Well, at least we know where Ivanov will land," Chin assured him.

"We do?"

Chin showed Danny the same map Kono had seen minutes before.

"Damn," Danny breathed. "Chin, there are literally hundreds of freighters in that dock."

"I know," replied Chin unhappily, "but at least it's something."

Danny nodded. Kono suddenly began to feel the sheer hugeness of the task they were undertaking. She wished, though she would never admit it, that Steve was around. With his less- than- innocuous connections and quick thinking attitude, she was sure they would have a foolproof plan of action.

"Danny," She said, "What do we do now?"

"We do three things," the man replied with certainty. "One, we watch the docks like a hawk for ships coming and going and follow all personnel who pass through the vicinity of that cell tower. Second, we keep searching for a bomb threat because we can assume that Kahale hasn't done a thing for Ivanov. Third, we can prey like hell that McGarrett will show up before Petrov."

"So…" Chin seemed to be trying to sum up the situation. "We're going to try and stop a dangerous Russian from getting an even more dangerous Russian onto the island, while not alerting the more dangerous man that he's going to get caught. All while assuming there's a bomb threat to the island. And without knowing whether or not the can even jam the satellite because we don't know if they've cracked their hostage."

Danny paused. "Yes," he answered, "That pretty much sums it up."

Kono did not feel any better. In fact, she was even more sure they had no business handling this case at all.

* * *

_China/ Korean border- Chinese Air base. Wednesday: time unknown._

They got lucky. Either that, or the gods finally decided to repay Steve for years of bad karma. He was leaning towards the former.

They made it to the air base in less than an hour, since Officer Davis drove more crazily than Steve himself. They were on a plane with more than eight hours to spare before Ivanov was supposed to dock. Still, they were going to cut it close.

They had several hours to kill now, and Steve began discussing a plan with his team. He trusted the SEALS under his command, but every passing minute made his wish with greater vehemence that he was back on his island with his team. Five-0 worked together seamlessly and efficiently where this group of boys spent more time arguing than actually formulating ideas.

"Stop!" Steve finally commanded, after Officers Davis and Franco almost went to blows over possible approaches to the situation.

"You ladies done?" He asked. They shut up and stood down. Steve nodded, pleased that they at least could follow orders.

"We are going to do this right. We have to let Ivanov dock, and follow him to wherever the hell he's going. We need eyes and ears on the situation. Speers!"

The youngest member of the team- a chatter specialist from Maine- came to attention as best he could while sitting in an airplane.

"Sir?"

"How's your Russian, soldier?"

"Perfect, sir!"

"Good. Plain clothes, Speers. I want you on the island as surveillance. Listen to all chatter you can find. The radio, the streets, anywhere. I don't care if you hack the whole goddamn Navy base. I don't care _how_ you do it, but I need Intel on possible bomb locations, civilian movement, anything- no matter how arbitrary it may seem. If you find a local in league with Ivanov, take him out, soldier. It's your job to see to it that the people are as safe as possible, if the bomb threat turns out not to be bogus. Got that, kid?"

"Yes sir!" The boy cried, saluting him. Despite the fact that they had several more hours before landing, he moved to find civilian clothing and shed his dirty, used combat gear. Steve envied him; it just wasn't suitable clothing unless one was actually_ in_ combat. His boots were muddy, and his pants were slightly singed from the explosion in Najin. He was able to shed his coat and sit in just his t- shirt, but he still felt uncomfortably tied down to his heavy gear.

_I've gotten way too used to civilian life,_ he mused to himself, _Danny would be proud. _

"Davis, rendezvous with the Admiral. Confer with him and come up with the best political solution to Petrov's imprisonment or, damnit it all if it comes to it, execution."

"Yes sir!" Davis replied, saluting much like Speers.

"Franco, I need you to contact the U.S.S Enterprise and find the airplane with Petrov. Hack every radio frequency tower if you have to."

Franco responded the same way.

Steve turned to Pinks. "Officer Pinks, first you need to find a medic." Pinks nodded resolutely, the man's sheer lack of indignant response only more affirmation to the Commander that the explosion caused a head injury. "After, rendezvous with my team at Five-0 HQ. At the rate we're going, we'll beat Ivanov by at least two hours. We'll use that time to get Intel from my team on the island and reformulate a plan of attack if we have to."

He addressed all four men on the airplane now. "We need to take down Ivanov at all costs. All men under his leadership are considered to be a threat to the state and will be dealt with with deadly force." Not one of his men even blinked at this. "Petrov _ought _to be apprehended alive, but if he threatens the security of anyone- and I mean _anyone _ - on my island, we will use deadly force. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir!" They chorused as one. Steve nodded, pleased.

"Sir?" Questioned Speers, sitting back down in his seat, wearing jeans, a T- shirt, and a pair of sneakers. Steve could see the outline of a gun strapped to his ankle.

"Speers?"

"Where are you headed?"

Steve looked at him. The kid was barely twenty five, fresh out of the academy and eager to prove himself. It was clear the question was a hard one for him to ask.

"I'm headed to the other side."

Speers nodded, and held out his hand. "If this goes to shit," he said, "It's been a pleasure, sir."

Steve took the kid's hand without hesitation.

"The pleasure's been all mine, kid."

Speers moved away, and his spot was replaced by Pinks, why was up and moving even with the clear concussion. The boy was a trooper.

"Pinks," Steve began, looking seriously at his charge, "I need you to do something for me. When you get to Five-0 HQ, find Detective Danny Williams. Give him a message for me…"


	2. Chapter 2

_Five-0 HQ, Wednesday: 0600 hours local time_

Danny was going to go crazy if he didn't get to leave the office, like, immediately. After looking at the same walls for almost twenty- four hours, he was ready to put a gun in his mouth just to end the physically painfully monotony of the place.

They could do nothing but wait at this point. Sometime in the last six hours- Danny couldn't say exactly when- he had spoken once more to Admiral Goodich, who said that Ivanov's ship was scheduled to come in at any time past 0800 hours, and that they didn't know much beyond that.

So they waited. And waited.

Finally, after what Danny was sure was several lifetimes, the tedium of his waiting was interrupted by a man.

Sure it was an uptight, unsmiling, rod- in- the- ass SEAL, but hey, at least it was something.

"Detective Williams?"

Déjà vu. Horribly irritating déjà vu.

"Yeah." After 24 hours of _uselessness_, that was about as good as it got in terms of small talk.

The man didn't seem to notice Danny's curt tone.

"Sir, my name is Officer Pinkleman- but you can call me Pinks, everyone does." Danny could see why; the guy's nose was very, very red. It looked like a tomato.

Pinks continued, oblivious to Danny's nose observations. "I was sent here by Commander McGarrett."

Danny started.

"McGarrett? He's back?"

"Yes sir. Our plane landed half an hour ago. I was sent to a medic and then to come find you."

"Why did you need a medic?"

Pinks paused. "It's classified, sir," he replied, trying to remain polite.

"O… kay." Danny was not going to try and argue with that. "Where is McGarrett now?"

"He's… working the other side, sir," Pinks said.

Danny audibly groaned. "If _one _more person tells me that today, I swear I will spontaneously combust due to pent up exasperation." He turned to Pinks. "What the hell does it mean to work the other side?"

"It's-"

"If you say the words 'it's classified' to me, I will castrate you."

Officer Pinkleman grimaced, but remained resolute. "I'm sorry sir," he said.

Danny sighed. "Okay, Officer," he replied, "Just tell me what the situation is."

"Yes sir," he said, perking up at actually being able to help. "We have a SEAL working the civilian angle, one with the Admiral, another tracking Petrov's plane, and Commander McGarrett working the other side."

Danny wanted to groan again. How typically _Steve_ to fly in from god knows where and completely take over the case.

"The plan is to let Ivanov dock, and then track him to wherever he's going-"

"the cell tower on the northeast part of the island."

"Sir?"

"That's where he's headed. That tower is optimal for signal disruption. It's the best place to be hidden and optimize the chances of landing their plane."

Pinks seemed pleased that they knew the location.

"Excellent!" He cried, before getting a hold of himself. "Anyway, we're going to have eyes and ears on the situation inside, including where they stand on the hostage situation and possible bomb threats to the island."

"Where is this intelligence coming from?"

Pause.

"Forget I asked. Keep going."

"At this point, we believe that Ivanov and his men _do _have contacts on the island and that there is the potential that they have a bomb that they are threatening Kahale with if he does not hack the satellite. We believe the only reason that nothing has been blown up yet is because Kahale told Ivanov he would jam the signal feed while they were travelling and so they had no way to test the veracity of his claims."

"That makes sense," Danny agreed, "but once Ivanov docks and meets up with whoever his contacts are, they are going to start blowing stuff up until Kahale complies."

"Exactly."

"Okay, Officer. What do you want from my team and me?" Danny asked.

"Commander McGarrett says you guys are the best he's seen. He wanted me to tell you that…"

He paused, his nose showing evidence of blushing.

Danny took pity on him; it must have been hard to relay the words of a superior officer when they were so disrespectful (For Danny knew they would be disrespectful).

"He said that… you could stop your bitching because he has the situation under control. He also said to me that you and your team were the only ones he trusted to work the case."

Danny found it hard to be mad at the guy who told a subordinate officer just how much to trust Five- 0. It was irritatingly… nice. Danny wanted to cringe.

"Of course he did. What does the Commander want us to do, Pinks?"

"He wants you to watch for Ivanov's boat and follow him. He says _not _to engage no matter what, and he wanted me to reinforce the 'no matter what' part. He says he wants surveillance on the meeting and the hostage satiation. He wants you guys to get Kahale out safe and ensure that no bombs go off on his island."

Danny scoffed. _Steve's_ island? Last he checked, other people lived here, too. His mind quickly backtracked to Pink's words, though.

"What does McGarrett mean, 'no matter what'?" He asked, eyes narrowing.

Pinks looked uncomfortable again, but responded anyway.

"Sir, you are probably going to see and hear things in your surveillance that will make you want to blow your cover and 'barge in' as McGarrett put it. He wanted me to tell you, or ask you, or beg you- however I could- _not _ to interfere no matter what you may see."

Danny sighed, and resigned himself to the fact that, even while completely MIA, Steve McGarrett still managed to influence his decisions."

"Okay, Pinks. Let me gather the rest of my team. Where are we headed?"

"To another boat on the dock where we can have surveillance equipment and sound set up for when Ivanov arrives."

"…Right. Remind me again _how_ we have all of this?"

Another damn pause.

"you'll see." Danny could see Pinks was sitting somewhere between anxiety and anticipation.

Great. Just Great.

* * *

_Oahu North Shore Harbor. Wednesday: 0800 hours local time_

Despite the severity of the situation, Steve was very close to sighing in relief. After trekking through the jungle, almost getting blown up, and then sitting stiffly in an airplane for several hours, he was glad to have exchanged his heavy, dirty gear for a pair of jeans and a t- shirt. He would have preferred cargo pants, but that hardy screamed Russian insurgent. Which was the whole point.

Still, he felt naked and exposed after wearing his gear for so long, and so he was painfully alert, eyes scanning the docks every few seconds and taking notice of each of the two men he was standing with, both similarly dressed.

Ivanov was scheduled to arrive any moment, and Steve counted his blessings once again that they landed before he docked. His job was made that much easier with the extra time.

"Tell me again how you got here?" The man to his left asked in Russian, dark eyes narrowing at Steve. It was hardly intimidating at all, and really just made him want to smirk. Or scowl. Both would have been equally effective.

"I came after I got the call in Moscow," Steve responded in kind, looking not at the man himself, but rather over the water. "Everybody is dead. Some kind of natural gas explosion. My guess is some bastard cut the circuit and caused a spark."

Steve could tell this went way over the guy's head. He nodded and seemed to accept that Steve would be in charge of this mission.

Steve turned to him now, and asserted his dominance. "Petrovsky told me that you've got a bomb on the island. That true?"

The man smirked. "Yeah. Me and the boys got one over Oahu General, and another over the Police Station. Word is Ivanov's guy has a mom in OG and a cousin in the department. We'll make him crack in no time."

Steve felt anger course through him, and it took every nerve in his body _not_ to strike this disgustingly boastful man. He barely bit back a scowl and just managed to replace it with a halfhearted attempt at a smirk.

"Good."

"_Got it, bossman."_

Steve had never been happier to hear Officer Pinkleman's voice in his ear.

"_Speers is on it now with your girl Kalakaua. Kelly is doing recon with Franco. The plane is comin' in hot."_

There was a pause in the mike, as though Pinks was listening to somebody else, too.

_Shit! Sir, we have a situation- _

The rest of whatever Pinks might have said in his ear was drowned out by the sound of a very loud ship blowing its horn. Steve didn't have time to worry about whatever Pinks couldn't tell him; he had to be Volkoff. He trusted his team to handle whatever it may be.

_Party time._

It was Ivanov's ship, definitely. For one, it had the logo for a shipping company out of Manchuria that Steve knew had been a cover for the Russian mob to move drugs in an out of the country for years. Beyond that, Steve was sure that packing crates didn't open themselves, and he doubted very many other freighters housed stowaway terrorists.

A group of people began to descend onto the deck. There were eight in total, including Ivanov and a man with a bag over his head who Steve could only assume was Kahale. As a unit, they moved towards the three men on the deck. Steve kept eyes on Ivanov as much as he could without seeming suspicious.

He was an aging man, but had retained a youthful, dangerous looking body. His dark locks and pale eyes gave him a sinister air, especially when he smirked. Which is what he was doing.

The group approached Steve and the Russians behind him. Not wasting any time with a preamble, Steve took the last step toward Ivanov, and held out his hand respectfully.

"I'm Volkoff, Sir," he said in rapid Russian, "I came as soon as I could."

"What do you mean, boy?" Ivanov asked, and Steve wanted to cringe at the name.

"I was in Moscow when… somebody blew up the warehouse. Made it look like a goddamn accident. Petrovsky and the rest of the men are dead."

Ivanov's pale eyes widened for a moment, not in compassion for his fallen men but for the possible ramifications of what Steve was implying.

"Were we made?"

"It _looked_ American, sir. My cousin is looking into back in Moscow and I flew out here to meet you."

Ivanov eyed Steve, who looked down respectfully, hating every second of it.

"Volkoff?" He seemed to be testing the name. "Yes, I know a Demitri Volkoff. Does booking for me."

Steve nodded. "Another cousin," he said.

It was a lie, of course. Volkoff was a name coined by the American government for any agent in a covert operation in Russia. Steve borrowed it for the mission, but he wasn't the only person to have it. Demitri Volkoff was actually a fellow SEAL who had spent months tracking Russian mob money across Europe. There were a few others scattered across the country as well. All cousins, if anyone were ever to inquire.

"Does he have anything?" Ivanov asked, eyes flashing with anger at the blown Moscow warehouse op.

"A lead or two, sir," Steve replied, feeling safe since he was technically giving himself away. "He and his boys found evidence of a hardwired circuit at the sight. Smells like American military."

"God damnit," Ivanov breathed.

"I'm sorry sir."

"Is that how you got that cut on your jaw, kid?" He asked, eyeing the tear in Steve's face. In truth, he'd forgotten all about it, and was sure it looked pretty nasty at that point.

He shook his head. "Had a little run in with the police back home. Seems they weren't too happy with my leaving."

Ivanov nodded in understanding. It was then that he noticed the men behind Steve, who had remained quiet through the exchange.

"What's the word on the situation here, boys?" He asked.

One spoke up. "We got two bombs, sir. One over the Hospital and one with the police."

Ivanov turned around to face his entourage. He looked at Kahale, though the man could not see him through the cloth over his face.

"'Ear that, Agent _Kahale?_" He asked in English, sneering. "We 'ave you're island under our control. Geeve us vhat we vant, and I _promeese_ not to 'urt anyvone."

It was definitely a lie. Steve knew they'd probably blow up the hospital and HPD no matter what. Luckily Speers and Kono had by now probably located the bomb and, given the Russians' lack of intelligent explosives power in North Korea, most likely dismantled it, too. Of course Ivanov didn't know that. Which unfortunately meant that Kahale didn't either.

"Right!" Ivanov switched back to Russian. "We have two hours until Petrov's plane comes in. Let's get moving. The coordinates for the location are in the vans."

Steve pretended to be startled.

"Petrov, sir?" He asked. "I though we were breaking him _out._"

Ivanov only smirked. Steve wanted to hit him.

Behind Steve, two vans whipped around the corner and pulled up onto the dock. Several of the men made toward one with Kahale (no doubt to begin _convincing_ him to hack the satellite), leaving Ivanov, Steve, and the two other locals to board the second one.

The door the innocuous black van opened wide as the driver and passenger made room for the newcomers.

There was a third man in back, hands tied, struggling futilely on the floor of the vehicle. Steve's heart filled with dread, and he wanted to hit something- or perhaps just give up and break down- because the struggling, captive man was Danny.

* * *

_Unknown location north of Oahu Docks, Wednesday: half an hour earlier. _

Danny could safely say that Officer Pinkleman was under direct orders from Steve to annoy him to death.

Every time Danny made to ask a question, Pinks responded that it was classified. In the hour long car ride to the ridge overlooking the north harbor, he learned nothing new about the situation.

"Look, I'm sorry sir," Pinks said after Danny's thousandth question about what the hell they were doing. "I can only tell you what Commander McGarrett told me; you're supposed to have eyes on the situation and try and get Kahale out of there unharmed."

"Fine, fine," Danny grumbled, feeling just a little like an impatient child. "How close are we?"

"Its just up the hill. There's a van on the ridge that we'll use for surveillance."

Danny nodded. After a few moments of silence, the car crested the hill and Danny spotted the van. They parked the car next to it, and both clambered inside the other stationary vehicle. It looked quite similar to a police van, but closer inspection showed Danny a set of much more advanced equipment. Pinks plopped down in a chair like he was at home in the cramped vehicle, swiveled around, and began typing furiously. A few moments later several screens directly in front of them showed the docks at several different angles.

Danny finally got a look at his partner for the first time in days. Steve was dressed in simple, civilian clothing, but his stance was much more alert than his garments suggested. Even on the screen in less- than- bright coloring, Danny could see that Steve looked pale and slightly drawn, with purple shadows under his eyes. He was alert, but clearly weary, and there looked to be a nasty cut on his left jaw line. What he was doing on the docks with a couple of disreputable men was a mystery, but Danny could venture a guess.

"So… working the other side… it's not a sharp shooter?"

Pinks snorted. "No," he told his counterpart, "Although the Commander _does_ have a nasty shot. I once saw him down a man from two football fields away… in the forest to boot."

Danny turned back to look at his partner on the screen. Steve seemed to a legend among legends.

Pinks watched Danny watch his partner.

"I forgot you only knew him as an islander."

"Huh?" It was hardly an intelligible response.

"Commander McGarrett usually looks like that on active duty." He indicated to the dark circles and weary stance. "Some of the boys are sure he doesn't sleep. There's a betting pool."

Danny wanted to laugh. "And how did he respond to _that_?"

Pinks smirked, too. "He told me where to place my bet, and we split the money."

This time Danny did laugh. "Seriously?" He asked, wiping mirthful tears from his eyes.

Pinks nodded. "Yeah," he replied, "we made a pretty penny, too."

There was movement on the docks, and both men turned their attention to the screen. Steve was speaking rapidly in Russian to a slimy looking man next to him, his eyes never leaving the dock.

Pinks was listening intently, as though he could understand every word Steve and the other man were saying.

"Got it, bossman," he said, motioning Danny to call Kono. He complied, hurriedly relaying to her- as Pinks was telling him- that there was a bomb at Oahu General and one at HPD. Danny felt sick as he relayed the words to his teammate. _HPD? Shit, _was all he could think. Nonetheless, he relied on Kono and the SEAL she was with to disassemble them- the SEAL was an expert, after all.

Chin called next, to tell Pinks and Danny that he and _his_ ninja extraordinaire managed to locate an unmarked, Russian- built plane that left Seoul illegally some time ago. It was expected any time now.

"Speers is on it now with your girl Kalakaua. Kelly is doing recon with Franco. The plane is comin' in hot."

Suddenly, the door to the van was ripped open, and before he could turn around, Danny was yanked from the van. He twisted and struggled, but to no avail.

Pinks was yelling something. There was a single shot that rang out. Danny saw Officer Pinkleman fall, clutching his chest. He hit the deck and didn't move again.

And then Danny felt a sharp pain at the back of his neck, and knew only fuzzy shapes and distorted colors as someone carried him through the dense foliage…

He started to come back into focus when a bump rocked him back and forth against unforgiving steel. He was in a van. Uncomfortably. With his hands bound. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He started to struggle against his bonds, but it was useless. The van made a severe right, and Danny was rocketed against the left side of the vehicle. He winced as his back connected with metal. That would surely bruise.

Still fighting his bonds, he continued to struggle even as the door slid open. There, in all their Russian- pretend or otherwise- glory, were two men. One, the smirking one, was definitely Ivanov. The other, trying hard to maintain aloofness, was Steve McGarrett.

Steve met Danny's eyes, and shook his head imperceptibly. Danny, who had worked with the cryptic man for several very _long_ months, read a lot from that nod. _I don't know you. I'm not Five-0. Do not engage._

Danny gave a single nod, disguised as a grimacing movement, and knew his partner would get the message.

Ivanov spoke to the driver in Russian, still smirking gleefully. Danny though he heard the word police, but his Russian was very limited- limited to _da_ and _niet_ really- so he wasn't sure.

Ivanov turned to Steve, and demanded something. Steve responded, planting an uncharacteristic sneer on his face and glancing at Danny. If he didn't know the guy, Danny would have been apprehensive about that sneer. Luckily he knew the guy.

The van took off once more, Danny bouncing up and down on the floor as Ivanov and Steve watched, one gleefully and the other quasi- apathetically, as Danny winced with each painful contact with the metal.

* * *

"Who the hell is this?" Ivanov asked the driver, looking down at Danny in a way that made Steve want to cringe.

He looked down at his haggard partner, and shook his head ever so slightly, begging Danny not to blow his cover, and not to do anything stupid- like piss off Ivanov.

Danny net his gaze, and then he grimaced and leaned his head forward. It was a confirmation nod.

"A cop. We found him and a SEAL doing recon above the docks. The SEAL took one to the chest. Died there. We figured you would want to meet this guy."

Steve felt his chest tighten. _The SEAL took one to the chest. _Pinks. Officer Pinkleman. His charge. Dead.

Death came with the territory, and Steve knew his fair share of felled men, but that didn't make it easy. It was never easy.

"You been here before, right Volkoff? You know this guy?"

Steve plastered a halfhearted sneer onto his face and glanced down at his partner. "I heard about him. He's Five-0, a special task force guy."

"Think we can use him?"

"I think I can get him to give you whatever you want, sir."

Ivanov seemed pleased. "Okay Volkoff, he's all yours."

Steve was pleased, too. With Danny under his surveillance, maybe he overpowers Steve and escapes. Maybe his bonds are accidentally too loose. Maybe he gets lost in transit. Steve would take whatever Ivanov could dish out if it meant getting Danny out of the mess he created.

The van came to a screeching halt, slamming Danny against the wall again. Steve winced sympathetically; Danny would be bruised tomorrow.

The side door opened, and Danny was yanked out roughly. Steve and Ivanov followed. Once outside, Steve immediately recognized the cell tower and the building beneath it as the tower on the north side of the island. Of course- there was a deserted air base a few hundred yards north of there. Plenty big enough for Petrov's plane. With Pink gone, he and Danny were on their own, so he could only hope that Chin and Kono knew where to go. Or he could free Danny.

The unit and their two hostages made their way into the spacious building at the base of the tower. Inside was a slew of tech gear that was beyond Steve's knowledge base, as well as an office and a back room that was dark and slightly foreboding.

Ivanov forced Kahale into the chair in front of the satellite equipment. Steve had never met the islander, but he was sure that if they threatened his island and family, he would eventually cave.

That was not a problem. The Russians had no leverage, but didn't know it yet. Beyond that, Petrov had to land on island. Steve needed to tell Kahale that.

"Sir?" He asked Ivanov, looking to the older man. "I speak English, sir. I think I can get him to hack that signal no problem."

Ivanov considered this for a moment, before nodding.

Steve approached Kahale with a nasty expression plastered on his face. He leaned in close so only Kahale could hear, and made it sound like he was delivering threats.

"Agent Kahale," he whispered, still sounding nasty. "Steve McGarrett. I'm Five-0, and a SEAL. We need that plane to land. Hack the signal."

Kahale wasn't a Langley man for nothing; he pretended to look nastily at Steve, and spit at his face. Steve calmly wiped his face, before lashing out and striking the man. He held back, and felt Kahale roll with the punch. Still, it made Steve hate himself a little more.

"DO IT!" He yelled, still in English, "Or I detonate the bomb."

Kahale pretended to whimper. He closed his eyes, and whispered, "Fine. Okay. I'll do it."

Ivanov smirked. Steve was glad his performance sold; he thought he might pursue acting if being a SEAL fell through.

Kahale put his hands to the keyboard, and began to work.

"Damn Volkoff," Ivanov whistled appreciatively, "what did you say to him?"

Steve smirked- though for an entirely different reason than Ivanov. "Just a little friendly persuasion is all."

* * *

_Somewhere near Waikiki, Wednesday: somewhere around the same time_

Chin Ho Kelly prided himself in being a rational man. Even with the added stress of his job, the man had always kept a certain air of calm collectiveness in the face of danger. It was something he was rather fond of.

Even after working under Steve McGarrett for some months, Chin still managed to stay put together- much more so than his Boss's unfortunate partner. He was pleased that he managed to keep a level head and even get to teach some of it to his young cousin. Kono was learning quickly, and Chin was very hopeful that she would inherit at least some of her cousin's level headedness so that together they could balance out the other two.

It was for this reason that, when Kono called him in a clear and undeniable alarm, he allowed himself a moment to panic. Panic was healthy.

"Slow down, cuz. What happened?"

"_I can't get a hold of Danny, Chin,"_ Kono said from the other line. He could hear shouting in the background. "I'm with McGarrett's SEAL Speers, and he says that the guy Danny was with is MIA, too."

This was odd, and more than a little disconcerting for Chin. He was with another of Steve's men, a guy named Sam Franco, and so far they had located Petrov's plane, but done nothing more than watch it fly closer and closer to the island.

"You sure, Kono?" He asked.

"_No," _she responded, unsure, _"but Speers says his guy wouldn't just go off the grid for no reason, and Danny was supposed to be available."_

Before Chin could respond, a noise sounded from the monitor next to the one showing Petrov's plane. He looked at Franco questioningly.

"That signal shows the frequency of the satellite over Honolulu," he replied, eyes narrowing. "It's begun. They're hacking the signal. We'll lose sight of the plane in a second."

True to its word, the monitor displaying the dot thaw was Petrov's plane began to flicker, and then scramble as it was replaced with shaking blackness.

"That's it. Petrov's plane is coming in. We have to assemble a team and prepare for a _very _quiet takedown. He doesn't know we have eyes on Ivanov. We'll have a unit standing by in minutes at the airfield."

"_Chin! CHIN!"_

Oh yeah. Kono.

"Sorry cuz," he said, putting the phone back to his ear. "We got new info. Petrov is coming in hot. McGarrett got Kahale to hack the signal somehow. It's a good sign, Kono. They wouldn't have gone ahead and hacked the signal unless they knew you and Speers disarmed those bombs already. The message got through to Steve. Danny and Pinks got the message through."

She paused, clearly thinking. _"But they're supposed to have eyes on Ivanov," _she argued, _"why hasn't Danny called?"_

Chin couldn't help but agree with the rather disheartening observation.

"You're right. Look, they're assembling a team now to ambush Petrov the second he steps off the plane. We know where they're supposed to be. We'll go with the strike team and see if we can't find them."

She agreed, and hung up with no further small talk. Kono was worried, and Chin couldn't blame her. A silent Danny was never a good thing.


	3. Chapter 3

_The cell tower. Wednesday: time unknown. _

Danny was very sore. Sore from his head to his toes. Getting thrown around a van will do that to you. Still, he was alone for the time being, which was heartening.

After Steve, Ivanov, and his merry band of miscreants _coerced_ Danny into the building at the base of the cell tower, a few men roughly dragged him to a chair in a back room, sat him down with his hands bound behind him, and simply left him to his own devices.

Besides fiddling incessantly with the ropes, hoping to wriggle free, Danny spent his alone time watching through the open doorway into the main room, as his partner beat the shit out of the Langley agent. Okay, so Steve really just whispered to the guy, hit him once and shouted at him, but _still_¸ McGarrett was admittedly frightening, so it was the equivalent of a beating from any _normal _human being. In any case, Kahale turned to the computer, and seemingly began to do exactly what Five-0 had spent the lest days trying so hard to prevent.

Danny was annoyed. Trust Steve to charge in, blab a little Russian, and suddenly the whole damn operation was blow to shit.

Of course, the bombs _were _disabled. But still. It was very irritating.

Danny watched as Ivanov, who looked more and more gleeful, put a phone to his ear and listened intently. He nodded- as though the other goddamn guy could _see _that- and then his eyes widened. he began speaking very rapidly in Russian to the other line, clearly making orders, before he snapped the phone shut.

He and Steve spoke for a moment or two. Ivanov made a few steps toward the room where Danny sat, but Steve called out, and he stopped. Danny wished he knew what the hell they were saying to each other; it was like trying to watch a Spanish soap opera what with the rapidity and hint of melodrama in the room. It made it difficult to assess the situation.

And then Steve was walking toward him. His partner did not look directly at him, which was also quite annoying because it meant Danny couldn't read the guy. Steve entered the room, closed the heavy metal door, and approached his partner.

Danny took a big risk, opened his mouth, and said, "Howdy, partner."

Steve sank down next to his partner's chair, under the pretence of whispering nasty threats should anyone come in, and looked at the bound man. Steve had a very guilty look in his eye, and Danny felt less irritated at him; he would blame himself enough for the both of them.

"Danny." It was hardly a reply, but he could tell Steve really didn't have time for preamble. He got serious.

"What's the situation?"

Steve's eyes were tired, and his face slightly gaunt. "The plane is on its way in. Ivanov just got a call from someone inside who told him HPD is assembling a strike team. They have someone inside Danny." He looked even more tired for a second. Danny cringed. There was a mole, someone working the operation who was working with the Russians. It made him want to hit something. "They're moving the landing sight, Danny; there's not going to be a plane when HPD arrives. They're rigging the place to blow. And, damnit all, I'm supposed to _ask_ you how they knew that the plane was coming."

Steve said most of this with an apathetic tone- as though he was trying to detach himself from the situation- and yet it made Danny fill up with dread all the more. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

"Listen Danny," Steve spoke very quickly now, "If Petrov gets back to Russia with Ivanov, then the whole damn government could crumble. We're talking civil war and American involvement. When they get back here with Petrov and HPD finds out, they'll com in guns blazing, no questions asked."

Danny understood what he was implying. He didn't like it one bit, but he had long ago accepted death as a possible means of retirement. He took a deep, shaky breath.

And then Steve did something weird. He stood up, moved behind Danny, and began to work with the ropes. Danny could feel them loosen just enough that he could slip his hands through, but not enough that anyone would notice.

"What the hell are you doing, Steve?" He whispered. Steve came back around to face him.

"Look, Danny, now that they know Ivanov means business, they won't hesitate to come in hot. I wouldn't be surprised if Admiral Goodich orders the whole goddamn place to blow up. Once Petrov arrives- and he will, Danny; Ivanov will get the guy in here- they'll put a bullet in your head to keep you from saying anything. When the time is right, run like hell and don't look back."

Before Danny could utter a single counterargument to his stupid, self- sacrificing maniac Steve stood up, moved to where he was standing in front of Danny, and struck him, _hard_, across the face.

Danny reeled back, dazed. Damn that guy could throw a punch.

The reason for Steve's sudden display of violence was explained when the door flew open, and Ivanov stepped inside. Through pain filled eyes, Danny saw Steve look down at him with immeasurable self- hate in his eyes. Danny almost laughed; he actually felt sorry for _Steve! _Steve, who clocked him in the face!

Ivanov and Steve spoke for a minute, before Ivanov leaned down and looked Danny in the eye. Danny looked back defiantly.

"So," he began in English, "you do not vish to tell my friend _how _your police knew vhere to find Anton Petrov?"

"Nah," said Danny causally, determined to push a few buttons, "I thought it'd be more fun to watch you sweat a little."

Ivanov struck Danny in the head. He felt his brow split open and blood trickle down his face.

"It von't matter anymore," the man said nastily, "Petrov has arrived at a new location, and your men vill find nothing but their deaths."

Ivanov stood, pushed nonexistent dust from his shoulder, and swept out of the room. Steve gave his partner one last guilt ridden glance before following.

Danny saw why they left; the door at the front of the building opened, and a well dressed, elderly man stepped in, flanked by more than a few faceless bodyguards. He was regal looking, with perfect silver hair and a distinctly aloof expression. Ivanov seemed to deflate and become meek around this new arrival. Danny knew without a doubt that it was the man of the hour: Anton Petrov.

It was odd; more time must have passed than he thought because it seemed like minutes since they'd dragged him into that goddamn building. It had to have been more than minutes.

Shaking off his strange time warp, Danny began to very closely observe the situation, despite the pain in his head and groggy mind.

All of Ivanov's men were distracted. So was Ivanov. Petrov seemed to have people gravitate towards him; all eyes were on the venerable man. In all fairness, he _did_ exude an era of strength. that was what probably made him such a charismatic leader and such a dangerous man.

Nobody was watching him. And then, so quickly Danny would have missed it if he'd blinked, Steve turned to look at him. There was no head movements, no wink, only a single, very meaningful look.

Danny knew. It was time.

He wiggled his hands, and felt the bonds grow looser and slip off. And then he was free. Watching to make sure nobody looked back, he stood up, edge along the wall, pushed the side door open and slipped into the bright sunlight.

It was just so _easy._ A few steps, the push of a door an d BAM, he was out in the open air again. Granted, his head was reeling and he stumbled a bit as he ran toward the dirt road that led back to the main street and by extension the ridge with the van, but still it was disconcertingly simple to escape. Almost as if they didn't really care about him.

Almost as if they knew that Steve was the more valuable target.

Like they would have if there happened to be a double agent in the mission.

Danny ran faster.

* * *

_The air strip. Wednesday: time unknown_

Chin and Kono were taking heavy fire. From all sides.

They'd arrived to meet Petrov's plane a few minutes before, only to find the airfield empty. Lifeless. Kono had exactly enough time to think _oh shit_ before bullets rained down. She and Chin dove to one side as Speers and Franco took the other. The HPD officers scattered. Like it was from ghosts, gunfire assaulted them from every possible nook and cranny in the deserted airfield- from behind tractors and old buildings and even mounds of dirt. Kono saw an officer take a bullet straight to the skull. He went down without so much as a gurgle.

"We've been made," Chin hissed. "How the _hell_ did they know we were going here?"

Kono didn't have an answer.

Speers stood up, hit two assailants in the head, and popped a third in the chest before being forced to duck once more behind the crates where they had all taken refuge. Kono had to admit, having a weapons expert Navy SEAL on her side was not a bad thing.

Franco looked over. "We haven't heard from Pinks or Danny. We need to get the hell out of here and get up to their van. We have no idea what's going on at Ivanov's location, but I think at this point we can safely say that Petrov will be with them."

Kono wholeheartedly agreed. They continued to exchange gunfire with the Russians. Kono hit one man in the leg, and popped him again as he went down. It was clear they were thinning the herd; more than twelve men had begun the assault against Five-0 and HPD (And the SEALs) and now Kono counted only a couple left.

Franco let out a strangled cry and went down, slumping to the ground behind the crate and clutching at his shoulder.

Chin stood, fired off two shots with his powerful gun, and then sank back down.

Silence.

Checking to see if it was over, Kono stood up slightly and peered over the ledge. Nothing.

She hurried over to Franco, and knelt down next to him. Speers was already putting pressure on the wound. Chin materialized beside her and wordlessly handed over gauze. Where he had gotten gauze was a mystery.

The HPD officers that had arrived with them were meticulously clearing the scene, leaving Kono and Chin to hover over Franco as Speers bandaged him up as best he could.

"I'm fine," the man breathed, pushing Speers away. Kono felt an odd sense of nostalgia at that; it sounded very much like something Steve would say. She guesses that it was a requirement to be a SEAL.

"Like hell you are," Speers replied. "You look worse than McGarrett did after that mission in Qatar."

"What happened in Qatar?" Kono asked, curious. She was surprised by, even after working with Steve for as long as she had, she hardly knew the man.

Speers looked sideways at her. "It's a long story," he said unhelpfully, "but if you get a chance, ask the Commander why he sets off metal detectors in the airport. Give him a few shots first, though." He paused. "But not of tequila."

"Another long story?"

"Part of the first one, actually."

Franco, with the help of Speers, stood up. Together they made their way to the red Chevy. Kono got in the front, Chin at her side, and the two SEALs took residence in the back. She gunned it, peeling out of the airfield, leaving HPD in the dust behind her.

They raced toward the road that led up to the ridge where Danny and Pinks were supposed to be doing surveillance. Kono took the winding lane as fast as she could, screeching to a halt beside the van.

She and Chin exited quickly and concisely, guns drawn. Speers did the same, leaving Franco in the car. He was in pieces after all.

They rounded the corner of the vehicle, and Kono's heart sank. A man lay dead on the ground. She hated herself, but she was relieved that it wasn't Danny.

Speers was less so. He dropped to the ground next to the fallen soldier. The man remained stoic, but his hand clenched so tight Kono thought it might burst.

"I'm so sorry Brah," Chin placed his hand on Speer's shoulder. He nodded, but said nothing.

The sound of footsteps alerted the trio. They rose, guns raised, and whipped around. They needn't have worried.

"Danny…" Kono breathed. Danny just looked at her, breathed a sigh of relief, and swayed dangerously. Chin caught him before he could fall all the way, and lowered the man to the ground so that he sat with his back against the van. Kono noticed a nasty looking cut on his brow and a bruise on his cheek.

"Danny! What happened?"

Danny looked up at her, and Kono could see the relief seep off of him.

"I'm so glad you're here…" He said.

"Yeah, us too. What happened?" She was more forceful.

"We were ambushed. Someone knew about the surveillance. They took Pinks down. Tied me up, put me in a van. Ended up at the docks. McGarrett was there with Ivanov. We went to the cell tower, and they hacked the signal. Petrov came…" Danny seemed to be remembering something.

"It was so _easy_ to get out. Steve loosened the bonds, and I just got up and walked out… shit!"

"What?"

"There's a mole. A mole in the operation. Someone knows… that's how Petrov got there. And why they didn't much care if I left. They knew that Volkoff was Steve McGarrett."

Kono was royally confused. Who the hell was Volkoff?

Danny made eye contact with Speers. "He was working the other side, then?" Speers nodded. It all made sense; Steve was _working the other side._ Steve was Volkoff. And he had been compromised. That wasn't good.

Danny made to stand up. Chin tried to push him back down, but he swatted the arm away. "I'm fine."

"You sound like Steve."

"Except that I'm really fine."

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four."

"… okay, fine. You're fine."

"Thank you."

Chin eased Danny off the ground.

"Kono." She looked up. "Call Governor Jameson, have her get a task force up here ASAP." Danny paused. "We're going in McGarrett style."

"What?" Chin asked, "You mean us, whatever we can use with you, and one and a half SEALs against the entire Russian gang?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Just checking to see _how_ close to McGarrett crazy we were getting."

"Close."

They made their way back to the car, but not before Speers placed a hand on Pinks' chest and whispered, "have peace, brother."

Kono placed a hand on his shoulder.

Without any further delay, they peeled back out onto the road and toward McGarrett.

* * *

_The cell tower, Wednesday: time unknown_

He'd been compromised. There was no doubt about it. The mole in the mission had thoroughly done his homework.

The second he'd made eye contact with Danny, he was sure the other man had snuck out. Petrov continued to hold the attention of all of the men present, and so Steve risked a glance over to the room. Danny was gone. Steve felt a sort of weak relief; Danno was lucky.

Too lucky.

It shouldn't have been so easy. Someone should have been watching. That was when he'd guessed he'd been compromised. He didn't really have time to dwell on that though.

A gun was placed, ever so gently, against the back of his head.

He stilled. When Ivanov spoke, it was surprisingly still in Russian.

"How long do you think you could have kept up your little act, _Commander_?" Steve could hear the sneer in his voice.

"Clearly it was long enough, Ivanov," he replied in kind.

Steve was, of course, referring to how well he was infiltrated the gang in so little time.

"It took me a few well chosen words to get you to trust me, Ivanov. I became a part of your operation with a couple of charismatic _fucking_ words."

Ivanov took his free hand to Steve's stomach. And then did it again for good measure. Steve doubled over, coughing up blood. It wouldn't have been so damaging, if the bastard wasn't wearing brass knuckles. _How the hell did he get those?_ Steve didn't have time to think about it.

Ivanov shoved the gun into Steve's temple angrily. Steve looked at him, not once breaking eye contact.

"Just who _is_ your guy, Ivanov? The one in the department?"

Ivanov let out a barking laugh. "It's a good thing I'm going to take your life, Commander, because otherwise I'd never be able to tell you." He leaned in to whisper in Steve's ear, "I am going to love watching to crumble before I end you." He paused, and then plundered on. "We've had your man _Davis_ in our payroll for months."

Steve froze. _No! Not again! Not AGAIN! _Twice. Twice he had been betrayed by greedy SEALs with fiscal agendas. Maybe he should pursue acting; at least the chance of betrayal ending in murder was significantly less in that profession.

He looked defiantly to Ivanov, and spat at him. He hissed like an angry cat, and struck Steve across the face with the butt of the gun. Steve rolled with the punch. It was nothing more than payback for what he'd done to Danny.

"I'm going to kill you."

Steve had no doubt that the words were true. Still, he had few regrets, and if he was going to die in the line of duty, he was glad that it was at him and not it the middle of nowhere.

"I'm sure you will, Ivanov," he said, and turned slowly to face the man so that the gun rested on his forehead, "but the question is, will you do it and still get to fly off this island? I think not."

Before the man could come up with an intelligible response, there was commotion. The sounds of several people yelling _Five-0 _and _U.S. Navy _at the same time was heartening.

But it didn't exactly let Steve off the hook. Ivanov put the gun to his chest, and forced him to move into the back room and out the side door that Danny had used to escape not long ago.

The sun was bright, and it stung a little. Ivanov continued to push him until they stood in a field next to the building. The commotion inside quieted until just Steve and his adversary existed in this lonely foliage. Ivanov shoved him so that he stood a few feet from the gun pointed at his chest.

"Kneel."

"No."

"Kneel!" Ivanov cried. "Kneel and I will make your death a painless one, Commander."

"I will die standing, Ivanov, like a man. Like you will never know."

Ivanov screamed in rage. "FINE!" he cried, spittle flying from his mouth, "Then I'll put a bullet in your chest and smile as you bleed out at my feet."

Steve looked defiantly at the Russian, his stance foreboding, his eyes alert. It was strange that, this close to his death, everything seemed so much more lively. The grass danced beneath his feet, and the breeze caressed his face. He longed to close his eyes and appreciate every sense and smell in full, but knew that he could not.

All sound faded out, apart from his own breathing. Even as Ivanov formed words, he only heard silence.

Even as he felt a bullet rip into his chest, he heard only silence.

And when Ivanov, with surprise etched into his aging face, slumped to the ground to reveal Danny standing behind him with a raised gun, he still heard nothing.

Finally, like vacuum forcing all air and sound and life back onto him, the sound came rushing back like a tidal wave of confused ruckus.

He heard yelling. And banging. And perhaps his name, too.

He looked at Danny before looking down at his chest, to where a growing pool of red stained his shirt, just below his heart.

The ground rushed up to gracefully embrace his falling form before he could do anything else.


	4. Chapter 4

Danny was second guessing his decision to lead a raid into a building full of _nasty_ people. His head throbbed like no other, and the sheer weight of the task at hand seemed to slow him down, too.

When they entered, all men drew on them, forcing them to fire in turn. Even with a gun in Franco's less than steady hand, they were severely outnumbered.

Still, they had the element of surprise, and so Danny saw half of the ten or so men felled before the enemy got off a shot.

He fired, taking down a weedy guy, before diving to avoid a bullet, rolling back up despite the protest to his head. Righting himself, he fired off another couple rounds. Kono popped a guy, and each of the SEALs managed to off another. Chin's explosive shotgun nearly ripped a guy in half.

A flash caught his eye. He turned, but it was for naught, because Speers put a bullet in Danny's assailant before the other man could even aim.

"That's for Pinks, you bastard," he spat. Danny looked down at the regal looking man on the floor. He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling the man- now sporting a very fashionable hole between the eyes- was Petrov.

There was a problem though, Danny noticed, and it was that Ivanov was nowhere to be found.

"Spread out! Find him!" was all he needed to say.

And then he spotted the open door. The one he'd used to escape. The one he was sure he politely closed behind him after he left.

Danny, gun in front, whipped around the open door. All he could see was Ivanov's silhouette, back turned.

"Ivanov!" He cried. No answer.

There was a flash of _something _and an ominous _bang_ and Danny, without thinking, fired his weapon too. Ivanov stood for a moment, and then slumped to the ground, a gun clattering uselessly away from him.

The man's fallen form revealed Steve McGarrett, who had stood a few feet from the man, hidden originally by his adversary.

"Steve?" Danny looked at his partner. He didn't get much of a response, really. Steve looked up to meet Danny's eye for just a moment, and then he directed his attention to his own chest.

Danny's heart skipped a beat; a dot of red was growing on Steve's shirt, a few inches below his heart. Steve looked down at his torso for a moment, before crumpling to the ground.

"STEVE!" Danny raced over to his fallen partner.

"Wake up, buddy," Danny slapped the man none- too- gently on the cheek. Feeling for a pulse, he was relieved to find Steve respond with a slow but perpetually beating heart. He put both hands on Steve's chest to try and keep in as much blood as possible, but it was like trying to stop a river from flowing with just a couple of useless rocks.

Kono ran outside, Chin hot on her heels.

"Call an ambulance!" He cried, his voice cracking. She nodded, and began relaying instructions to the person on the receiving end.

Steve opened his eyes. He looked up at Danny and frowned.

"I'm… so sorry Danno," he said quietly, his mouth having trouble forming the words.

"You should be, you useless, self- sacrificing bastard," Danny said with absolutely no conviction. "Did you know your cover was blown when you sent me trekking through the forest?"

Steve managed to smile a little. "Not until… after you left." He coughed, and blood spilled out of his mouth onto his shirt.

"Wow, buddy," Danny said worriedly, eying the blood with growing apprehension.

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, and I'm a yellow octopus."

Steve tried to laugh, but stopped when it just produced another round of coughing. "Always the comedian, Danno."

Danny smiled despite himself.

Speers walked over to his fallen officer, supporting Franco with his left hand. Both eased to the ground beside Steve, as Chin and Kono stood right behind. Danny was glad Steve was still lucid and, thank god, breathing; it would not do well for these men to see another of their team fall.

Come to think of it, Danny wouldn't have been happy either.

"Hey, Commander," Speers said, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder gently.

Steve looked up at his men, and Danny should not have been surprised that, even bleeding onto the ground, Steve was still every bit the Commander that his men respected.

"Where is Officer Pinkleman's body, soldier?" He asked, and Danny could see he was exerting a great effort now to speak at all.

"On the ridge, sir," was the reply.

"See to it…" he grimaced and tried to take a breath, "… that someone gets his tags, soldier."

"Yes sir!" There was no hesitation in Speers' voice.

"Davis…"

"He's fine, sir. He's with Goodich."

Steve's eyes widened and he coughed again, forcing more blood onto his chin. Danny put more pressure on the hole in his partner's chest, but it was hardly doing anything now. Either the medics would arrive to this desolate place in time, or they would not. Danny forced himself not to dwell on the latter possibility.

"No!" Steve began to struggle a little, and Speers had to place a hand on his chest.

"Speers…"

"Sir?"

"The Russians… have Davis bought and paid for… Call Goodich…. Get him… out…"

Steve could say no more. He could hardly breathe at this point. Kono was beginning to tear up, and Chin even let a small amount of pain through his mask.

"Damnit Steve!" Danny cried in frustration.

"Danno…"

Steve's pupils began to move hazily between this world and wherever else his mind may be. Finally, he began to close his eyes.

"No, damnit, no!" Danny said in frustration, as Steve slipped from his grasp.

The sound of wailing sirens was like a fucking church choir at that point. Danny, his hands still to his fading partner's chest, called over the medics and hoped to god that they could do what he could not.

* * *

_Place unknown, Date and time unknown_

"You dirty, rotten cheater!"

"I am not a cheater."

"you're counting cards!"

"So?"

"That's cheating!"

"No, it's using superior mathematics skills and powers of observation to my advantage."

"Its cheating."

"…"

"Isn't this supposed to be a proverbial chess game, anyways?"

"Yeah and I'm supposed to wear a black cloak and carry a scythe. But I'm not, am I?"

"The gun is a little disconcerting."

"Had to come prepared."

"You have that little faith in me? I'm insulted."

"Don't be. Feel honored. I meet most people under entirely different circumstances."

"Why Texas hold 'em, though?"

"Because I enjoy a good game of cards with a worthy adversary."

"Bullshit."

"Chessboard was in use?"

"You're kidding."

"I don't know. This is _your_ limbo. I'm just an escort."

"Hardly the most uplifting of statements."

"You going to sit around and bitch all day, or are we going to play?"

"…"

"That's what I thought."

* * *

Danny would have called it the quintessential end to a rather harrowing case, if his partner was lying on an operating table, fighting for his life. Despite that, though, the case ended with nothing short of a bang.

All the Russians were dead and, thought Petrov couldn't testify at the U.N., it still felt like the only possible ending to such a long and drawn out conflict.

Danny had rode with Steve to the hospital, and witnessed him crash twice on the way to boot, as Speers tracked down Goodich and Davis. Davis, thinking he was off the hook, had started to make his way to the airport to catch a flight to Seoul. Safe to say, Davis did _not _make it on that plane. Goodich was informed by Speers of the situation, and last thing he knew was Speers was seen with his Admiral, escorting a struggling Davis to a Naval vehicle in chains. Danny knew they would not turn him over to the police; they would sentence him to death for treason.

Franco and Kono arrived at the hospital after Danny, and Chin follow up next with Speers in his car. Franco had to go get patched up himslef, and his partner went with, leaving only Five-0 in the desolate but paradoxically bright waiting room.

No one said anything, and no one had to. It was hard enough without the empty words of hope any of them could provide.

Hours had past, Danny thought. But at the same time, it could have been instants. It wouldn't have mattered anyway.

"Detectives?"

Danny's head shot up. Chin gently roused Kono, who had been resting on his shoulder, and they too observed the new arrival.

It was a nurse. She was petite and seemed much too small to handle the big hospital around her. Still, she stood with as much authority as she could muster and faced Danny and his team.

"What's the latest?" Chin asked, his dark eyes- as usual- shrouded in mystery.

"The Commander is still in surgery. I was instructed to come find you and warn you of what may happen."

That was hardly uplifting. She took a deep breath, and plowed on. "Should the Commander become… incapacitated… we will- as was stated in his medical information- remove him from life support."

Danny gaped. It didn't make sense. It was illogical. A chest wound.

"Why would that matter? It's a GSW to the _chest_." He told her, irritated. "Why would he be on life support?"

The nurse looked at him sympathetically. "You just- just never know with these things," was her less- than- ideal reply. "I'm just telling you what the Commander's decision in his written information is."

"Do you have any idea how he's doing now?"

She looked, if possible, even more sympathetic at the seemingly innocent question.

"It's touch and go right now. The bullet nicked the aorta and lodged in his liver. We don't know anything more than that right now."

With no further delay, she left.

Danny was no more informed, all things considered, than he was two minutes ago. Except that they would pull the plug if Steve went on life support. Which wouldn't happen anyways… he hoped.

* * *

"I win. Again."

"…"

"_And_ you were cheating."

"it is not cheating. _You _can do it just as easily."

"Not nearly as easily. Plus, you made up the rules. I can't possibly do it if it's _your _game."

"If its my game, then I wasn't cheating."

"… You have a point. I still won."

"Best two out of three?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"…"

"I though not."

* * *

They let him out of surgery. The same nurse came back, looking slightly more hopeful that she did before. She said that they repaired the damage, but that Steve was disconcertingly unresponsive still.

Still, being able to see him and sit in the same room made Danny's urge to hit something subside somewhat.

Being three cops and two Navy SEALs- Speers and Franco came back with Franco on significant painkillers and sporting a stylish new sling- they had very little trouble coercing the hospital staff to let them all see Steve at once, and then to stick around for a little while longer, too.

When they filed into his room, the reaction from each of the men- and women- working with the Commander was nearly the same: uncomfortable anxiety. None of them were used to a leader who spoke so little, and who was lying in a bed, hooked up a plethora of machines with a heavily bandages torso. He was oddly serene, and obviously lacking in his usual hotheadedness and complete disregard for general safety.

It made Danny uncomfortable.

Still, he was breathing. That was always a plus. The room was meant for two patients, so they commandeered the second bed, and stretched out on hard cloth chairs to wait. And wait.

Danny looked to Speers. The man was stoic as they all were, but he kept looking at Steve with something akin to a desperate anger. Danny knew the look; he was stuck between pain and complete rage.

"Want to tell me?"

Speers looked up, surprised.

"What?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "I've worked with a deranged SEAL for months, kid," he told the younger man, "I know the faces. What's up?"

Speers looked back down at his Commander before speaking.

"I met the Commander two years ago. I was just out of the academy, and looking to prove myself. I ended up doing recon work for him on a mission in Iraq. I was trying to be a typical gunslinger hero, trying to take down the whole goddamn Taliban regime by myself. I thought I could infiltrate this insurgent uprising with just me and a couple of my guys. We ended up being made by some kid who knew we were military."

Speers looked even younger in that moment. Danny was curious; he knew very little about his partner's SEAL stories- mostly, of course, because he really didn't want to know. This was something different though; he was seeing Steve through the eyes of someone who had no choice but to trust him explicitly.

"Anyway, me and the boys were all high and mighty, thinking we had done this mission all by ourselves. That was when the goddamn sand people attacked. We'd led them right back to the _fucking_ camp. McGarrett took down half the team of insurgents himself, and then demanded to know what happened. I told him. He said that I was noble for thinking that I could do the mission on my own, and a _fucking_ moron for risking the lives of my men. He said 'They're your family, kid. You protect your family.'"

Speers stopped. Danny didn't know what to say, really. He didn't know what to think either, except that he needed McGarrett to wake up at some point so that Danny could hit him for being a moron, and then thank him for saving his life.

* * *

"I win."

"Dead man's hand."

"How ironic. You didn't have jack shit, of course, so it hardly matters anyway."

"Hardly."

"Luck is just not on your side today brah."

"You could argue that it is simply on yours."

"That too. Can I go?"

"Feel free. We'll have to play again sometime."

"I'm happy to say I do _not _look forward to that day at all."

"It will come, I assure you."

"I have no doubt."

"I will win the next time."

"I don't know brah, I'm _really_ lucky."

* * *

It had been more than a day. No movement, no nothing for a day. The doctors were hopeful- they said that it was normal. Still, what a boring day. The nurse had come in and exchanged his ventilator for a much less intrusive cord that hovered underneath his nostrils, and told the men in the room that Steve was breathing on his own now, but still they should call if he made any strange noises. It was actually uplifting.

Danny was sitting on the bed next to Steve's, dealing out cards to Speers and Chin alike. Kono had gone home to shower, and Franco had been ordered to rest. Still, it was nice to have some company, and Danny had taken a liking to Speers.

"I fold."

"C'mon, Chin," Danny laughed. It felt good to laugh. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I lost it three rounds ago, back when you two cleaned me out. Maybe you should ask Steve to wake up again so _he_ can play with you."

"I wouldn't do that…" Speers warned, not looking up from his cards. He seemed to contemplate his hand, before throwing a five on the top of the pile.

"Why?" Danny asked.

"He counts cards."

"your kidding."

He shook his head.

"That's cheating."

"Yeah but he doesn't see it that way. He calls it 'using superior math and observation skills to his advantage.'"

"Its cheating…"

"Only in Vegas."

The three men whipped around. The voice was tired, and scratchy like sandpaper, but it was a voice all the same.

"Steve, glad you could join us brah," Chin said, smiling wide. "You can play instead."

Steve winced as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Danny walked over and put a hand to the man's shoulder.

"Down."

"You make me sound like a dog."

"I'm glad your unparalleled wit wasn't damaged by the bullet in your chest."

"I'm glad Ivanov didn't do permanent damage to your face. Its got to be the money maker."

"Your such a charmer."

"I try."

Danny saw Speers lean into Chin and ask, "Is it like this all the time?"

Chin shook his head.

"Nah, its worse when they're both healthy."

* * *

_The McGarrett House, some days later_

Steve breathed a sigh of welcome relief. He was home. Finally, after everything, he was back in his own house. He's been shot, blown up, beaten, and whatever else, and so coming back was a great feeling.

He opened the door to the house and slowly made his way inside. His chest still ached and it was hard to move for long periods of time, but he'd managed to break the doctors down until they let him leave with more Vicodin than he knew what to do with, and strict orders to rest.

That was exactly what he planned on doing. Of course, that was going to be difficult, given that Danny Williams was sitting on the couch in his living room.

"You know, I think you're neat and all Danny," he said, "But I'm just not ready to take our relationship to the next level quite yet."

Danny whipped around and glared up at him from his place on the couch.

"You're a funny man McGarrett. I'm here under orders from the Governor. I'm supposed to make sure you actually do what you're supposed to do."

"I was going to, but your sitting on my couch."

Danny rolled his eyes. "I'm going to get you water. And you're going to take those meds and sleep fitfully so that _I _can spend my time wallowing in self pity."

Steve looked at him.

"That hardly sounds like fun."

Danny's reply was a grunt as he moved to the kitchen to find water.

Steve, already feeling drained, sat down on the recently vacated couch. He was asleep before he knew it. But it didn't last long, of course. Not with Danny in the house.

"Get up!"

"I thought you wanted me to sleep."

"I do. But I also want you to take your meds."

Steve cracked an eyed open to glare at Danny, who glared right back and handed him a bottle of water and two pills before sitting down in the recliner and popping a beer.

There was silence in the den for a few moments, before Danny spoke up again.

"Steve?" His tone was different, but Steve hardly noticed. The Vicodin was doing wonders; he was so high he felt absolutely no pain.

"Hmm?" was his very intelligent reply.

"Why do you set off metal detectors at the airport?"

"What?" There was an odd buzzing now that was slightly annoying.

"Speers told me that you set off metal detectors. And that you also don't drink tequila either. What's up with that?"

Steve found his question hard to follow, but dutifully answered anyway once he understood. He was floating in a painless bubble, so he had no qualms about sharing his story.

"Oh. Well, back when Speers just started with me, a few years ago I think, we were driving through the jungle when the car hit an IED." He tried really hard to think through the haze in his mind.

"My left thigh was basically crushed by falling shrapnel."

Steve didn't realize it, but he clutched at his upper leg absently, rubbing where he could feel the ropy scar tissue there. He didn't see Danny watching him with a curious look.

The rest of the guys were either dead or fine, so it was just a bunch of young SEALS and their hurt Commander and no supplies. I had to direct them on what to do while laying there in the mud. It was hard."

"What's with the tequila?"

"Oh!" Steve remembered now. "We were sitting ducks next to that truck. My thigh was mangled and bleeding and pretty much useless, but I knew we had to move to higher ground. I had Speers get me the only thing we had- a bottle of Jose Cuervo. It numbed the pain and made it easier to trek the couple hundred yards, but it also ruined tequila for me."

"So… no margaritas?"

Steve thought he might have turned green.

"Right… okay." Danny said hastily. "But what about the metal detector?"

"Oh yeah. When we get out of there, I was airlifted to a hospital in Munich. There was too much damage to the bone to let me walk again, so they put two steel rods in my leg."

"… oh."

Steve was too far gone to respond.

* * *

Danny watched as Steve grimaced and rubbed his chest. Two months after getting shot and he still felt pain. In all fairness, they did just chase down a suspect on foot, and Steve did just tackle him into the sand.

"Maybe I chase the suspects."

"My legs are longer."

"You can't breathe."

"I'm fine."

"Like hell. Go sit and try not to get shot again." He looked down at the perp on the ground. "I'll handle him."

Steve nodded, and made to open his mouth.

Danny beat him to it.

"And if you say the words 'book 'em Danno,' you _will_ get shot."

Steve only smirked.

Fin.

A/N: thanks for sticking with me! You're awesome! Let me know if you have any interest for a sequel/ similar plot. I send you my Hershey kisses full of love.

Luna


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